COMMENTATORS on Island life – such as yours truly have to be prepared to take criticism or praise, which is part and parcel of a ‘trade’ that exists to provide food for thought.

Occasionally I receive a phone call, email or a letter – and have even been stopped in the street – as a result of a topic on which I have opined. On rare occasion I have been harangued by an irate objector to my views but usually I receive a cheery endorsement to keep up the good work. I welcome them all and enjoy the frank exchange of views that ensues.

Last week a JEP reader took the time to write and congratulate me. His short missive touched me so much that I seek your indulgence to reproduce it here. Not, I must add, in any way to pander to my vanity but because his words ring so true.

The gentleman wrote: ‘I too see our little island of Jersey being destroyed by money and finance with big buildings now appearing on our cherished bays and headlands, also the terrific amount of traffic – especially the unnecessary large cars which seem to be a ‘must have’ for some drivers.

‘Unfortunately, our wealthy, power-blind and self-important ministers have really lost touch with the people and real little Jersey, and even seem to be enjoying turning our Island into the land for their god and money.’

I couldn’t have said it better, though I would add that regardless of the Island’s sterling tradition of voluntary duty and altruism, there is a growing divide between the haves and have-nots which is not just about big flash motors or the ruination of beauty spots.

Last week news broke of a ‘development too far’ that typifies how much the never-ending search for building sites is ruining this island.

In the 1930s, before war so cruelly intervened to precipitate the decline of Jersey’s innocence, a caravan park was established on land at Ollivier Farm in Ouaisné. Over the years it evolved to become a place like nowhere else on this rock, used by some of its residents as a permanent home, while for others it became a weekend retreat. Hidden away from the hustle and bustle of modern life, hardly anyone knew it existed; until the owner applied to build eight houses.

Those who read the applications list published weekly in the JEP tend to do so to check if a neighbour is applying to build an extension. Now, as speculative developers and landowners increasingly seek to exploit every available space for monetary gain, it is the civic duty of every person who cares about the environment and how this Island looks to peruse each week’s list like their lives depended on it – because it does.

In one of those quaint local arrangements, involving the landowner, Ben Ollivier, and his forebears and the tenants, this eclectic collection of highly individualistic abodes is categorised as ‘temporary’, so a land rent is paid on a year-by-year basis. Consequently, a clever lawyer could argue, what each has chosen to invest has been in the full knowledge that they have no long-term rights.

Mr Ollivier is free to do what he pleases with his property as long as he abides by the law. Likewise, as his property agent, Simon Buckley, argued that any investment made by his tenants has been undertaken at their own risk.
Nonetheless, the true picture of Ollivier Farm is not quite as clear-cut. Each tenant has invested money and time in their plots, under the assurance that the land is in the green zone, where there is a presumption against development.

Moreover, each has had to submit a planning application before work could commence, and follow a more rigorous process than for most applications – and at added expense – to comply with the strict guidelines, as enshrined in the Island Plan and under Planning Law, governing such sites as Ollivier Farm.
Finally, and most importantly, none of the applications for each piece of this delightful architectural jigsaw would have been accepted by Planning without fulfilling the all-important legal requirement: the owner’s signature on the form.

Ergo, an equally clever advocate could argue, this could be interpreted as the owner’s consent for what was clearly intended as long-term proposals.
Just how clear could a message be, that, regardless of the extremely short-term tenancy agreements, the residents of Ollivier Farm could sleep soundly in the knowledge that the money, time and devotion invested in their little plots of Jersey was as safe as houses.

Notwithstanding the uniqueness of this tiny Island community, Mr Ollivier’s application for eight houses should be a no-brainer from the start, as the land is green zone where there is a presumption against development. Or is it?
Developments are increasingly sprouting up like blots on the landscape to sit incongruously in isolated rural locations, on headlands and escarpments to maximum stunning views, to dominate picturesque ports and harbours and old village settings and in areas of outstanding coastal beauty.

What looks good on paper or reproduced as a scale model can be a disaster when built. Let’s hope that at last common sense prevails and a special little corner of ‘real little Jersey’ is left in peace.
Some things are best alone.

To those who taken the trouble to contact me over the course of the year, to JEP readers every one and even the pampered birds in Tony Tonkin’s Turkey Farm, I wish you all a very merry Christmas.